Love Game - Season 2011 (39 page)

              Then he could hear Tom’s key in the door. Looking around he realized there was only one way out – and that was down.

***

“Have you checked the net, lately?” Jaro looked across the table with a worried look on his face, and Sasha stopped her movement halfway, her fork full of lasagna hovering dangerously in the air over her white shirt.

              “I stopped doing that when I was nineteen.”

              Jaro rolled his eyes. He had showed up in New York early in the morning and had requested to see her as soon as possible. “Well, I do,” he said impatiently, “and I’m afraid our sponsors do, too!”

              Sasha raised an eyebrow, while biting into the piece of lasagna. Was there trouble in their little paradise? Jaro had better not have met someone and fallen madly in love with him to the point of leaving her. Sasha gulped down her lasagna and leaned back in her chair. Jaro’s sudden grumpy mood surprised her.

              “What is it? Have they published a compromising picture of you?” she teased him. “Don’t worry, you haven’t put on that much weight.”

              Jaro gasped. “You think I’ve put on weight? Where? It’s my stomach, right?”

              “Jaro, please!” Sasha moaned. “What did you find?”

              Still a bit offended by Sasha’s remark, Jaro looked at her but then became serious again.

              “Rumors. About me. They are discussed on several football forums if not all of them. They don’t seem to believe our stuff and there’s also this nightclub incident in Madrid, but it’s not my fault! The guys dragged me there and there are a few pictures. Nothing serious, I’m not kissing anybody. But some guys around me are. So –” Jaro studied the table cloth. Then he looked up at Sasha again.

              “Anyway. I think we should get married.”

              Sasha choked on her lasagna, restraining herself in a last-second gesture from spilling it all back onto her plate or worse, all over the neat table.

              “What?”

              As she looked at her fake boyfriend again, she faced a very serious Jaro. He also looked scared. Oh, dear, she thought. This can’t be happening. Sasha cast a glance out of the windows and observed the busy streets of Manhattan. Her heart rate seemed to have slowed down and her mouth was dry. Perhaps she should have seen it coming, when she had agreed to work with Jaro. It was the best arrangement for both of them. It was business. But during the past weeks, she had forgotten about Jaro’s existence as a fake lover. He had become a friend. But since she was thriving on the court again reporters had begun to focus more on her tennis and questions about her private life had been reduced to a minimum. For her there was no need to marry right now. She sighed.

              “A wedding,” he continued as if Sasha hadn’t understood. “This will make the rumors stop. Nothing big, just a small ceremony. The intimate kind, parents and close friends. We can still get a divorce in three years. But it’ll give time for the gossip to slow down and hopefully vanish once and for all. What do you think?”

              What did she think? She looked back at Jaro.

              “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice trailed off.

              Why had she agreed to go out for dinner with Jaro? Life had been good. It wasn’t her fault that he had been sighted in Rio. Who was he to come here and occupy her mind with his problems? But his problem was also hers, she suddenly realized. If he was caught partying in a gay club, people might begin to question the foundation of their relationship.

              It suddenly angered her. Whenever she was back on track focusing on tennis and on her career, something popped up to distract her. Whether it was Jaro or the Galloways or a certain chair umpire winking at her, it really looked like there was a conspiracy against her.

              “Jaro, I don’t think this is the right time to discuss this,” she said coldly. “If you will excuse me? I have to play a Grand Slam final tomorrow.”

              She got up and left the restaurant.

***

The bathroom wasn’t exactly luxurious, but it would do. The blonde girl had taken off her clothes and dipped her toe into the water. She giggled, then slipped into the tub and into Mint’s arms who was already lying in the hot water. What was her name again? Mint searched her mind but couldn’t remember. She would just call her ‘Babe’. She grinned. That should do just nicely, she thought, judging the blonde’s boobs.

              Since her loss in the third round a lot of things had happened in Mint’s life. Not only was she suddenly considered the new rising star of American tennis, who was mentioned in the same sentence as the Galloways, but as soon as she had collected her check with the prize money she had decided to get rid of her stepmother and have a blast with the money.

              She had secretly checked out of the hotel where she had been staying with her stepmom and had taken a room with Chili in a hotel that promised a lot more fun. Several doubles couples were staying there and together they had partied almost every night after their losses. Ignoring her stepmother’s phone calls she had decided to stay even longer in New York. She liked the city. There were a thousand good reasons not to go back to her parents’ home in South Carolina. One of the reasons just wriggled under her tickling hands. Suddenly the door was burst open and Chili stuck her head in.

              “You will dissolve in the water, if you stay much longer,” she grinned. “Come out and let’s see if the mattress can cope with four hot girls.”

              In the back, Mint heard the other girl scream excitedly in anticipation. She and Chili had picked up the two hotties in a lesbian club an hour ago.

              When they came out of the bathroom, Chili and the other girl were already making out on the bed. Mint pushed the blonde babe down onto the bedside. With skillful hands she unwrapped the towel and revealed the girl like a present. Just when she was about to go down on her a loud bang made the four girls jump. Something very heavy had fallen onto the little balcony. After the simultaneous gasps, they had all grown absolutely still, waiting for what would happen next. Behind the closed curtain they could make out the tall figure of a man stretching out after he had crouched down to soften the fall.

              “Oh my god,” Mint’s blonde whispered.

              “Shut up,” Chili hissed jumping out of the bed. She was completely naked.

              There was a tiny knock against the glass window from outside. Then an even louder one. The guy wanted to come in.

              “Go to the bathroom,” Mint told the other girls. She was the only one who had at least a towel wrapped around her. The others looked at her with panic in their eyes but Mint only waved her hand at them to hurry up. “I only want to see who it is. Then we can still call the reception desk for help.”

              With the other girls hidden from view, Mint stepped up to the balcony door and with a bold movement pulled the curtain away. She had prepared herself for almost every sight, but not for this year’s U.S. Open semifinalist, Ted Curry. After the initial surprise she opened the door quietly and gestured for him to come inside.

              “Thanks,” he whispered, peeping into the room. He seemed relieved that nobody else was to be seen. Then he grinned awkwardly but didn’t say another word as Mint had put a finger on her lips to gesture him to stay silent. He quickly moved to the door, opened it and peeked outside. Obviously the hotel corridor was empty. After a little nod at Mint he slipped outside the room and disappeared. Mint snorted in disbelief. Ted hadn’t even recognized her. Not that this was surprising. Even though Mint had made the headlines of a few newspapers after reaching the third round this had happened a week ago already and besides that, she was ranked in the Top 80 and rarely played the same tournaments as Ted except the Grand Slams.

              Stunned and amused by the incident Mint walked back to the balcony door. The night was cloudy and there was a thread of rain. She took the door handle and was about to close the door when she saw something shiny in the moonlight. She bent down and picked it up. It was a memory stick.

              When Chili opened the bathroom door and peeked outside Mint quickly slipped it in her bag that lay on the chair next to her.

              “Who was that?” Chili came out of the bathroom.

              “Just a drunk guy who fell out of his window,” Mint shrugged.

***

The window sill seemed to become more and more slippery, but Amanda knew that it was in fact due to her hands sweating. Millimeter by millimeter she slipped down further. Soon she wouldn’t be able hold on to the window sill anymore. Her breathing got faster. Hanging on the wall she wasn’t able to look down but she knew it would be a long fall. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins as she clutched the stone with every ounce of energy she had left in her body. Suddenly there was a sound above her head. Amanda looked up. Sasha was standing in the open window. Amanda cried out for help, but Sasha was only standing there, smiling down at the Australian. The Czech didn’t move. A horrible thought dawned on Amanda. Sasha would let her fall. She would watch her fall.

             
I’ve never won a set against her. I have never won a set against Sasha.
And when her fingers finally gave in and she fell backwards into the darkness, Amanda knew that she would never do so.

              Her own stifled scream woke her up and, after a short moment when she was lying in the dark hotel room realizing she’d been dreaming, Amanda tried to steady her breath and relax again. But the nightmare was hard to shake off. Even though she wasn’t hanging from a window sill her situation was just as futile. She’d never even taken a set off Sasha. Not once in five meetings. There was no reason to believe that Sasha wouldn’t make minced meat of Amanda once again tomorrow. Amanda sighed quietly. A quick look at her watch told her that it was 4:30 A.M. in the morning. She needed to go to sleep again.

              Amanda turned her head to the girl sleeping next to her. Elise was still here. She’d decided to stay after her loss. Amanda watched her for several minutes but Elise was sound asleep. Amanda’s disturbing dreams and scream had not woken her up. Underneath the blanket Amanda reached out her hand and slipped it under Elise’s arm between Elise’s hand and her stomach. It was heaving slightly with every breath.

              Amanda closed her eyes. Was her opponent awake or sleeping? Did Sasha have someone lying next to her right now? With every breath Amanda cared less about Sasha and felt more relaxed again. After a while she found herself breathing in unison with Elise, whose breath came slowly, rolling in like waves on the beach. And suddenly the bed felt like warm sand embracing her and Elise, and Amanda fell asleep in no time.

***

Tightening the bath towel around her body, Sasha stepped out of the bathroom. She was on time. As a matter of fact, she still had thirty minutes left before having to grab her bags and leave for Flushing Meadows. Everything was fine. She tried not to think of Jaro and his proposal that had ruined her dinner last night. She wasn’t nervous, was she? Again she was in a Grand Slam final and this time she felt certain that she would win. She sat down on the sofa going through her game plan once more, when she suddenly saw a movement in the corner of her eye. A brown envelope – pretty large – was lying on the ground by the door. Curious, she went to pick it up and heading back to the sofa, she ripped it open and took out a sheet of paper.

              “Fuck,” she whispered. It was a print of a picture. It was a picture of her and one of the Galloways. Sasha lost her balance, taken by surprise and the awkward feeling that came when she realized that someone had apparently been observing her. She grabbed the chair and sat down to breathe in deeply. What was it supposed to mean? Who had taken this picture? She couldn’t remember seeing anyone who had followed her. In the picture she was looking at one of the Galloways.

              Taking a closer look, she had to admit that the photo was hilarious. There she was in her spy outfit, her eyes focused on the American players. But there was something else that almost made her crack up in surprise. She couldn’t really believe what she was seeing in the picture. Her look was full of adoration, longing and desire. Of course, Sasha knew better but that would be the exact interpretation of the picture. She really seemed to be head over heels in love with the Galloway twin who was standing a few feet in front of her.

              Was this an attempt to blackmail her? It wasn’t exactly a good picture for putting pressure on her. It might cause a snicker but Sasha doubted that it was enough to get the rumors going again. Whoever you are, you have to get better at following me, she thought. The only thing in the last few months that was worthy of blackmail was probably the incident in Cincinnati at the vending machine but it had been at night and nobody had witnessed it except for the one she had kissed.

              “Damn,” Sasha let her head sink onto her chest. She really had to clear her mind. It was not a good time to think about Lulu.

              Suddenly a thought crossed her mind. Perhaps this was a plot by the Galloways. Perhaps they had set it up to lure her into a trap? But why? Panic invaded her, rushing through her like a hot sandstorm. She turned the picture around with shaky hands. Nothing. Nothing had been written on it. Grabbing the envelope, she checked it, too, but again there was no hint of who was behind this. No inscription as was common for blackmail.

              No, she thought. It couldn’t be the Galloways. They had no reason to blackmail her. At least Gabriella had been able to beat her on the court in their last matches. Besides that, they had been out of the tournament for several days now and had most probably left New York City already.